


Who Watches The Watchman

by Anonymous



Category: Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Rough Sex, generally outdated sexual politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 22:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sometimes, even the whitest of the gods can make an error in judgment.





	Who Watches The Watchman

A heartbeat after he nodded off, Heimdall re-opened his eyes. He adjusted his stance where it had slackened, straightened his back, and was once more prepared to continue his ceaseless vigil.  
  
By this point, he could do without sleep almost entirely. This wasn't to say he never wished to retreat to his hall and slumber till the end of the world, but then again, this skill, along with his sharp eyes and rectitude, had been why the other gods had appointed him as Asgard's watchman in the first place, and if there was anything Heimdall longed for more than a full night's sleep, it was to do his duty as best he could.  
  
"Good morning."  
  
Or, at that very moment, to do his duty as best he could while also ridding Loki Laufeyjarson from his presence as soon as possible.  
  
He held his chin up as the trickster paused before him. "If you have something to say, speak. If not, you may leave."  
  
Loki tilted his head to the side, feigning innocent cheer. "I suppose I've heard worse greetings."  
  
"What do you want?" As he asked this, Heimdall took the opportunity to scrutinize his foe. Even Loki's detractors, which was to say every sensible person in the nine worlds, could agree that he was pleasing to look at. The scars on his lips marred his beauty, but only to an extent; in a way, the obvious imperfection only highlighted the fineness of the rest of his features, his tousled, but well-kept hair, his slender, well-proportioned limbs, his slight, supple body...  
  
And his knowing smirk.  
  
Heimdall narrowed his eyes. He couldn't afford to forget who it was who stood before him. A troublemaker who had almost lead the gods to peril a dozen times over. A conniver who could be trusted to land himself in trouble the moment he was out of sight. And beyond those, a base, unmanly creature who not only allowed himself to be taken, but sought such encounters willingly.  
  
"I wanted to thank you for bringing me back here last time," said Loki. "They send Thor after me so often it was getting stale."  
  
The Brisingamen incident, then. He had half expected it to come back to him.  
  
"No-one sent me," he said firmly. "I simply wished to right the wrong you committed." Their brief altercation was entirely Loki's own fault, and if he wished to complain about it, he could do so somewhere where Heimdall didn't have to listen.  
  
"Oh, please. As if you didn't jump at the opportunity to play the hero."  
  
"It was something that had to be done, that's all. And who is to blame for that, again?"  
  
"You say that as if I had a choice." Loki shrugged. "I had given my word. What else could I do?"  
  
"As always. If I didn't know better, I would suggest you willingly lead yourself to situations where you have to give such oaths."  
  
"I'm glad you know better, then, if only because it means you know _something_. Till now I assumed your head was as hollow as the stories of your bravery."  
  
On most days, Heimdall would have retorted in kind, but knew fully well it would only extend the conversation. Since there had been no-one else to hear the insult, he let it slide for the time being. "Was that all you have to say?"  
  
"I suppose. After all, I wouldn't dream of taking up any more of your invaluable time." Loki gave him a tight-lipped smile. That usually meant he was plotting something, but then, that was inevitably the case at any given moment regardless. "Besides, here comes someone considerably more tolerable than you."  
  
And with that, Loki sauntered away from the Bifrost and towards the approaching thunderer.  
  
Heimdall saw Thor's face lit up at the sight of Loki, and looked on as they fell into an animated conversation. They parted with a happy wave, Loki continuing onward towards the nearest with a bounce to his step. Though he knew better, Heimdall followed him with his gaze a moment longer. Did he really have to swivel his hips in such a way?  
  
He re-assumed a semblance of quiet dignity by the time Thor reached him. "Greetings."  
  
Thor's smile was the opposite of Loki's: direct and genuine. "Greetings, Heimdall. How fare the worlds?"  
  
"Peacefully. Perhaps too peacefully to your liking."  
  
"Oh. I suppose Loki had the right idea when he said he'd rather stay here, then" He gave Heimdall a knowing look. Some people, usually fools who wouldn't live for much longer, thought Thor was a blustering fool, only good for his immense strength. In truth, he could be very observant. "Was he bothering you? I can tell him to go annoy someone who deserves it instead, but he rarely listens."  
  
"It was the usual spite. It means no more to me than the barking of dogs."  
  
"Of course. So, there's really nothing going on today?" When Heimdall shook his head, Thor sighed. "Suppose I'll go alone, then. I'm sure I'll find plenty of opportunities to unwind."  
  
Usually, when Thor said "unwind", it meant bashing in the heads of any unfortunate trolls or jotunns that crossed his path. However, the accompanying pelvic thrust and sly smile left little room for the imagination.  
  
"Happy hunting, then."  
  
"Thanks" Thor's brow furrowed. "Maybe I should tell Loki to come with me after all. You should see quickly he can turn a girl's head around with nothing but words."  
  
"I can imagine."  
  
"It's even more entertaining in person." A fond smile crossed Thor's features. "I'll tell about some of the better ones later. There was this one girl..."  
  
He fell into silence. Perhaps he thought of Sigyn, or even of his own wife and how she felt of his conquests.  
  
"You know how he is," he continued, with affected lightness. "Give him a moment, and he can talk his way into the bed of almost any girl."  
  
"Or man?" The question escaped Heimdall's lips before he could think better of it.  
  
Thor froze. His fingers, as if by acting by their own will, moved to where Mjollnir was affixed to his belt.  
  
"He is my friend," he said firmly, "even if he sometimes does things I will not speak of. I advice you to not speak of them either. It is beneath you, friend."  
  
But it wasn't beneath Thor to be friends with someone who debased himself on a constant basis? All the same, Heimdall nodded. "You're right. Let us forget I ever mentioned it."  
  
Thor nodded back, visibly relieved. "It may be common knowledge, but that doesn't mean—" He paused, as if only then realizing he was keeping the topic alive.  
  
"I'll be going, then," he announced, rather abruptly. "See you later."  
  
Heimdall nodded somberly, keeping his countenance level as Thor regained his bearings and stomped across the bridge.  

 

* * *

  
  
The stars were bright that night, meeting Heimdall's gaze with an unwavering stare of their own.  
  
Heimdall wrapped his cloak more firmly around him. It was going to be a long, chilly night, far from freezing as it was the still the height of summer, but not entirely comfortable. At least the cool air would help keep his thoughts clear and make the skies a vision to behold.  
  
All the same, it was during nights such as this one that he most often found himself dreaming he could leave his responsibilities onto the shoulders of another, if only for a few hours,  and slip under some furs for a bout of genuine slumber, perhaps in the company of some rosy-cheeked maiden, or even—  
  
"Good evening."  
  
Heimdall turned, doing his best to keep his expression level. Loki's presence wasn't entirely unexpected — he had witnessed him lurking about not long before — but it was hardly welcome. "What do you want now?"  
  
"The feast was getting dull, so I thought I'd come see the one person not invited. Here." He held a full drinking horn towards Heimdall.  
  
Heimdall bristled. "If I were fool enough to accept poison from my enemy, I would be worthy of every word of scorn you can think of."  
  
He expected a riposte, but instead, Loki raised the horn to his lips and took a sip out of it.  
  
"No poison," he said, offering the horn again. "A peace offering, rather."  
  
Heimdall accepted the horn with caution. He was thirsty, in fact, and Loki probably wasn't mad enough to poison himself. Probably.  
  
The drink smelled fine, and, though berating himself all the while, he drank deeply. The taste of honey had a bitter tang to it, a tell-tale sign of mead fermented past his preference, but on a cool night such as the current one, the stronger the drink the better.  
  
"That's much better." Loki sat down cross-legged on the grass. From the way he wavered, the previous sip had been far from his first that night.  
  
Heimdall lowered the horn. "You wouldn't come all this way just to offer me a drink. Why are you here?"  
  
"To admire the sky, obviously."  
  
Obvious in how transparent the lie was, perhaps. "You may admire it elsewhere. I'm grateful, but I have no desire for your company."  
  
"This is the best spot for it, however. It's very warm for night-time, isn't it?" Another blatant falsehood, but one that was followed up on. With surprising finesse for someone drunk, Loki unpinned his cloak and allowed it to billow onto the ground around him.  
  
It appeared no matter how hard Heimdall glared at him, Loki wasn't about to shift. Thus, he ignored him instead and returned to surveying their surroundings. At least for now, Loki was quiet and convincingly feigned an interest in the stars. In fact, the silence lasted much longer than he expected, long enough that he almost forgot Loki's presence. But finally, inevitably, Loki opened his mouth again.  
  
"So, you had a heart-to-heart with Thor earlier?"  
  
He had seen them, then. It made no difference. Heimdall had said nothing he was ashamed to repeat. "I fail to see why it has anything to do with you."  
     
Loki stood up and took several sauntering steps towards Heimdall, stumbling slightly on the third. "And to think I came all the way here to offer you a favor."  
  
"Wasn't it for the stars?" Heimdall asked dryly. "Regardless, I have no interest in any bargain of yours."  
  
"Was it the whitest of the gods, or coldest of the gods?" Loki's smirk emphasized his scars. "It wasn't that sort of a bargain I had in mind. I thought I'd give you an opportunity to ask anything you wished to know directly instead of pestering my friend."  
  
Heimdall gave him an appraising look. This was a new kind of game. "If that is all you're here for, you may as well leave. I know everything I need to know of you."  
  
"You did have one question, at least."  
  
"It was one I already knew the answer to."  
  
Loki kept smiling his infuriating smile. On most nights, Heimdall would have shoved him away by now, but as it was, the alcohol had taken the worst sting of the irritation, and the way Loki tilted his head looked more attractive than ever under starlight. And so instead of pushing him, Heimdall kept speaking, though with bile on his tongue. "I asked whether there's truth to the rumors about you."  
  
Loki chuckled. "That could mean many things."  
  
No doubt he knew precisely what Heimdall meant. "I asked whether it's true you lie under men and let them take you like a woman." Not his exact words at the time, but the meaning was the same.  
  
"Well, what do you think?"  
  
"I know it to be true. I've seen you in the shape of a woman enough times to guess where your perversion lies. I was merely seeking to understand why anyone would do such a thing." There was still some mead in the horn. "You have a wife, and Thor says you can have other women whenever you please. So why would—"  
  
"Because I like both equally well."  
  
Heimdall paused with the horn midway to his lips. The interruption had been quiet, but there was no mistaking the word, nor Loki's steady, unaverted gaze.  
  
He had no response. Drunk or not, he hadn't expected Loki to be so frank about his depravity.  
  
When he continued to stare, Loki suddenly smiled. "I needn't elaborate on the pleasures of taking a woman. Surely you know about that." He chuckled again, swaying in place. "Still, as fun as that is, sometimes there's nothing quite like being held down and fucked instead."  
  
Heimdall grimaced and raised his hand to his temple, which had begun to throb.  "I have no need to hear this filth."  
  
"It does answer your question, however." Loki gave a lazy shrug. "There are more advantages to being a woman than most men give credit for. That is one of the better ones."  
  
"And bearing children?"  
  
"A price worth paying."  
  
"You truly are an utterly shameless creature."  
  
"What do I need with shame?" Without warning, Loki stepped forward and snatched the horn from Heimdall's hand, drinking what remained in it before he could protest. "If I bow my head and fall silent, what will I gain? If I act like the noblest of all Aesir and lie with no-one but my wife, will that restore my honor to me? Should I instead fuck every maiden in the nine worlds, to prove my manhood for all to see? Or do I need to first kill every man who has taken me for that to happen?"  
  
The words were uttered in a light, carefree tone, but they gave Heimdall pause. Loki was right, of course: there was nothing he could do to salvage his stained reputation. "You speak as if you played no part in losing your honor."  
  
"It hardly matters in the end." Loki raised the horn to his eye and gazed into it as if believing his glare could create more mead out of thin air. "You'd be surprised how much mileage can be had with such a simple phrase as 'horse-mother'." He lowered his hand. "Or perhaps you wouldn't be."  
  
Heimdall had already opened his mouth to point out that incident, too, was borne out of Loki's own actions, but a single glance at him led him to leave out this comment, true though it was. For once, there was no sign of mischief either concealed or fully manifest on Loki's face. In the scant light of the moon and stars, his skin looked finer than ever, but what drew Heimdall's attention was the heavy look in his eyes as he glanced at the sky, seemingly forgetting Heimdall was there at all.  
  
The moment faded faster than the first snow of the year. In a heartbeat, Loki was back to smirking.

He waved the empty horn. "No, I have no need with shame. I much prefer the solace that can be found between a woman's legs. Or, since you will no doubt ask otherwise, a man's legs."  
  
A strange thought occurred to Heimdall. "Why are you telling me this?"  
  
Despite its simplicity, the question gave Loki pause. The ever-present guile in his eyes dimmed just as it had a moment before.  
  
"I'm... not quite sure." He raised the horn to his eye again, and finding it just as empty as before, shoved it dejectedly back in Heimdall's hand. "It's a dull night, and I thought it might be amusing."  
  
Heimdall glanced at the horn before focusing back on Loki. He looked so slender without his cloak, and though he was always beautiful, something about the rare look of uncertainty on his face made him more beautiful still, and when he turned to look at Heimdall, his eyes were dark and full of... what, exactly?  
  
Before he could stop himself, Heimdall moved. The horn fell onto the grass just as he fell onto Loki.  
  
Loki didn't respond to the kiss, but neither did he resist it, quite willingly submitting to Heimdall's touch and opening his mouth to better accommodate him. Heimdall took this as an invitation and allowed instinct to take over, pressing his body against Loki's and clasping him into a firm embrace.  
  
The next several moments were a blur. When he withdrew for air, he was on the ground with blades of grass tickling his palms. Loki lay pinned underneath him, looking up at him with sharp, alert eyes, much sharper than his state of intoxication should have allowed.  
  
"I probably should have seen this coming." His breath against Heimdall's cheek smelled heavily of mead. "Well, if the whitest of the gods wishes to have... what was it, again? Ah — 'an utterly shameless creature'." With an indecipherable smile, he leaned his head backwards, exposing his throat. "— this once, he may do so."  
  
Heimdall said nothing in turn. What was there left to say? The reasonable thing to do was to get up and tell Loki to leave at once, but with him right there under him, supple and willing and moving in a way that sent embers through his veins and directly to his groin, all he wanted was to sink further.  
  
He leaned down for another kiss, this time receiving a response in kind. His hands roamed over Loki's body almost at their own volition, caressing his chest and abdomen before sliding towards his legs.  
  
In response, Loki placed his hand against Heimdall's shoulder. Not to push, not even as a warning. He simply held it there, and as Heimdall's hands moved lower, spread his legs, allowing Heimdall to move between them.  
  
As Heimdall broke the kiss for a second time, he began to hesitate. Even with all the wondrous sensations flowing through his mind in a heady mix, he grew mistrustful of Loki's intentions. Considering their past disagreements and in spite of knowing what sort of an lustful wretch Loki was, would he really yield so readily?  
  
"Heimdall?" Loki punctuated his words with a shake of his hips.  
  
"Be silent." He rummaged through Loki's belt, then the rest of his clothes, for any concealed blades. Finding none, and after ensuring his cloak was discarded far enough that Loki couldn't reach for any weapons hidden in its lining, either, he accepted that unless Loki intended to strangle him, this wasn't to lure him to death. Still, as he returned his attention to Loki, he placed his hand on his throat and pressed down much harder than was truly necessary, to ensure they both knew who was in charge. Loki's entire body stiffened at the warning, but soon relaxed as Heimdall lifted his hand and moved on.  
  
The heat within Heimdall was gathering and pooling downwards, and he had wasted enough time already. He set to work on Loki's belt and tunic, before deciding they would only slow him down further and settling for pushing up the hem of his tunic and moving onto the trousers.  
  
"Here, let me." Loki sat up to unwrap his leg wraps, then gleefully kicked off his shoes, making it easy for Heimdall to remove his trousers entirely. He grinned as Heimdall placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back down, falling back on his back with laugh.  
  
Heimdall ignored this. He was fully hard now, with his cock jutting uncomfortably against his trousers, hot and heavy. He had no time for diversions of any kind.  
  
Loki's cock was still unexpectedly soft by comparison, but perked up when Heimdall stroked at its length with his fingers. He left it at that, and traced his hand further down to what he truly sought.  
  
He expected easy access when he pushed his finger against Loki's hole, only to be met with firm resistance. The contrast between it and Loki's eagerness otherwise, though frustrating in the delay it would cause, struck Heimdall as almost... demure.  
  
"Wait."  
  
Heimdall grimaced, but halted all the same. "What is it?"  
  
"Don't you wish for me to take another shape?"  
  
The question puzzled Heimdall enough that he looked up at Loki's face. The eyes that looked back at him appeared so genuinely confused, so utterly guileless that for a moment, Heimdall thought he had lain his eyes upon a different person altogether.  
  
This had to be some kind of folly. Surely Loki had seen his desire for his current shape. He couldn't possibly _not_ have...  
  
When he had no response, Loki eventually continued: "Usually, men prefer it when I assume the form of a woman. But then—"  
  
Before he could finish, Heimdall leaned forward and placed another plundering kiss on his mouth. By the time he withdrew, the confusion was wiped clean off Loki's face, replaced by a wan smile.  
  
"Ah." He sounded breathless. "That makes things easier. No need to worry about bringing forth any bastard children."  
  
The words, so carelessly proclaimed, made Heimdall's cock jolt. Till then, he hadn't truly considered the possibility of making Loki change into a woman and have him bear his child.  
  
But no. He had what he wanted right there, and he would see it to the end. And so instead of changing his request, he brought two of his fingers to Loki's mouth, briefly brushing over the scars before pressing them where his lips parted.  
  
Loki seemed to understand what he intended without having to be told so, as he readily opened his mouth and took in the digits, closing his eyes as he sucked on them. Heimdall did his best to breathe normally despite the sensation and the soft, sensual noises Loki made around his fingers.  
  
Despite these, he couldn't wait much longer. He extracted his wettened fingers and drew back down once more seeking Loki's hole.  
  
This time, he pushed in. The tight ring of muscle resisted as before, but with help from the slick coating, his finger entered with ease.  
  
Loki hissed as he added the second finger, drawing his head to the side, his hands seeking purchase from the grass.  
  
Heimdall paused, his fingers still inside. "Does it hurt?"  
  
"It always does at first. Unless you're careful."  
  
The last words were clearly intended as a jibe, and though Heimdall didn't take them to heart, he moved his fingers more slowly, only pushing further in after the ring began to yield to the invading digits. He had never done this before, and though he was well versed with the mechanics — he saw all, after all — by the time Loki's entrance was as receptive to touch as the rest of him, he was painfully hard.  
  
He looked down. Loki's cheeks were reddened, and his cock, previously curiously disinterested to their embraces, was firming up fast. He had made no sound for several minutes beyond small, satisfied noises.  
  
Surely, he was ready. And if he wasn't, how much did it truly matter? Heimdall was ready.  
  
He drew upwards to fumble with his trousers. Loki smiled and extended a lazy hand forward as if to help, only to abruptly pull back and fall into perfect stillness as Heimdall managed to free himself of the offending fabric.  
  
"Wait." Loki's eyes were wider than Heimdall had ever seen them before as he stared at his cock.  
  
"You've taken bigger." He could hardly compare to an actual stallion.  
  
"Not in this shape." Loki licked his lips nervously, his eyes fixated on Heimdall's length. "I'm not sure I can."  
  
Heimdall inhaled a strangled breath, then hardened his gaze. "You will."  
  
A smile flickered on Loki's lips before he attempted simultaneously to snap his legs shut and pull away. With a lunge, Heimdall placed his hand back on his throat, holding him inexorably in place as he wedged himself between Loki's thighs. The pulse under his palm was like a bird's, but Loki made no further attempts to resist as Heimdall pushed his knees up, then positioned himself.  
  
Loki gasped as he breached him, clenching painfully around the two inches Heimdall had managed to force in with the first thrust.  
  
Heimdall hissed and retracted his hand from Loki's throat, placing it instead on the grass next to his head for better support. "Relax." When Loki did no such thing, didn't so much as breathe, he continued, grimacing. "I cannot move in either direction like this."  
  
At that, Loki finally let out a shaky exhale. Slowly, maddeningly slowly, the worst of the tension wound out of his body. The pain ebbed away, and though the pressure was still uncomfortable rather than pleasurable, Heimdall found himself rutting forward in short, sharp jabs, sinking steadily deeper, overcoming the resistance one thrust at a time.  
  
At every inch conquered, Loki threw his head from one side to the other, but made no sound beyond hitched breaths: after Heimdall managed a particularly successful push inside, he tensed again and brought a hand to his mouth, but by then he had loosened up enough that Heimdall could proceed without pain.  
  
Finally, with a decisive, determined push, he thrust his entire length inside.  
  
He forced himself to pause despite the fire in his veins urging him to proceeding, breathing heavily. Loki's inflamed inner walls were squeezing at every inch of him, so tightly it was at the cusp of being painful, but flooding Heimdall's senses with the kind of pleasure he had never felt before.  
  
Loki had stilled once more. His eyes were staring at a fixed point near Heimdall's ear, his mouth slack. The hand he had used to cover his mouth was now bunched up in the front of his tunic, grasping the fabric with whitened knuckles. A blush of exertion had risen to his otherwise pale face, and his thighs, stretched as wide as they could go, shook under the pressure of accommodating Heimdall's girth.  
  
It was difficult to think with his heart thrumming in his ears and the maddening heat surroundings his cock, but one thought emerged from the chaos nevertheless. He had always scorned Loki, but now that he was speared under him, overwhelmed and shivering, he could no longer remember his repulsion, or his resentment, or anything but his desire. Under the sheen of a thin layer of sweat, Loki was more beautiful than ever. It was a beauty very different from a woman's, but in that instant, it felt equally sacred.  
  
He had intended to wait longer, long enough for Loki to genuinely relax, but found he had began to thrust once more without even thinking. He kept it in small, controlled motions for a moment, before pleasure overtook him and he rutted forward with all his might.  
  
With each motion, Loki slowly turned as pliant under him as he had been after the first kiss. His widened eyes fell half hooded, and the shock etched on his face melted into pleasure. Not long after, he moaned.    
  
"Oh, Heimdall." He raised his legs upwards and locked them around Heimdall's hips, drawing them flush against one another "Turns out you're... quite the stallion indeed."  
  
There was more than a hint of sarcasm to his words, but Heimdall grunted and continued faster, unwilling to let the liesmith's tongue to interrupt his bliss. By now, Loki was gyrating his hips upwards to meet his each thrust, and the new fiction sent sparks into Heimdall's vision. He wouldn't last much longer.  
  
Even with that, it was Loki who spilled first, his seed splashing between them with a sudden howl. He clenched all around Heimdall, too tight, no longer painful, merely too much, too warm...Heimdall only lasted two more thrusts before he spilled deep within Loki.  
  
He had just enough wherewithal to withdraw before utter exhaustion claimed him. He all but collapsed on top of Loki, his eyelids leaden, already half asleep by the time he landed. The last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him was Loki, with his hand in his hair, whispering something he couldn't comprehend.

 

* * *

  
  
It was cold when he awoke, and mercifully dark. His cloak had shielded him from the worst of the winds, but the ground beneath him was like ice and slick with dew.  
  
Grimacing, he turned to his side, struggling to reorient himself. It appeared Asgard had not been overrun by hill giants while he had so carelessly slept, which was a good starting point.  
  
Then, in a flood, the events of the previous night returned to him.  
  
With a flush of embarrassment, he sat up, hastening to cover himself. Apart from the grass stains, his tunic was mostly presentable, but his trousers were sodden and likely ruined. He was surprised to discover traces of blood among the rest of the stains: he had no recollection of fighting or bloodshed.  
  
He adjusted his cloak to cover the worst of it. No matter. He likely had plenty of time to destroy all evidence of the night's coupling before any witnesses to the debauchery even woke up. He couldn't allow anyone to know Asgard had been endangered as it had been, let alone why.  
  
It was only then that he realized Loki was still there.  
  
There he sat on the grass, mere ten feet away from where Heimdall had woken, fully dressed, his cloak back around his shoulders, his back turned to Heimdall, and toying aimlessly with the empty drinking horn. Hearing Heimdall stand up, he jerked his head to the side, but didn't turn around. Soon, he went back to playing with the horn. Nothing but his disheveled hair suggested anything had happened at all.  
  
Heimdall stared at him for a long while, trying to understand his tangled feelings. Nothing had truly changed: he disliked Loki as much as he had before, and had no doubt the feeling was mutual. First-hand experience of Loki's womanish ways had ultimately changed nothing about how he regarded him. If anything, he was left with a deep sense of shame: it was Loki who was the true wanton creature here, yes, but to think he had so readily given in to his lust, with nothing to fuel it but a drop of mead and a flutter of eyelashes...In the heat of the moment, had even thought of Loki as worthy and beautiful...  
  
Just then, Loki turned to face him. He examined Heimdall carefully, his own expression betraying little emotion. He stood up, a touch unsteadily at first, but quickly straightening fist. His eyes, unnaturally bright in the moonlight, never left Heimdall's.  
  
Like a reflection in a stormy pond, Heimdall could still see the vague outline of what he had found so beautiful at the time.  
  
Slowly, Loki began to smile.  
  
Ultimately, it wasn't the tryst itself that Heimdall remembered. It was only that smile, and the mocking laughter which rang in his ears during the endless nights and days of his vigil.


End file.
